But it’s not Doyle’s wife at risk.
So to speak.
Tonight he’d be going over to the house for dinner, and Doyle had practically ordered Kel not to spend the day texting her about eating. To instead focus on them, on their relationship.
To focus on what made them strong as a couple in the first place.
Again, not something easy to do, because a large part of who they’d been before was wrapped around their M/s dynamic, and that was currently on hold. Yes, they had a vanilla marriage, too, but if she’d uncollared herself, and he wasn’t supposed to swoop in and take care of her like he wanted to…what else was he fucking supposed to do?
When he checked his phone, he found a text from Mal, sent only twenty minutes ago.
He felt angry at himself that he’d slept right through it, never heard it.
Good morning! Love you. :)
He blinked back tears as he stared at it. What the hell was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say?
Eventually, he settled on something he hoped was safe, although it didn’t come close to scratching the surface of his emotions.
I love you, too, sweetheart.
With that sent, he dragged himself out of bed so he could put on clothes, go out in search of coffee and breakfast, and then hit the grocery store. If he was going to be spending nights here for the immediate future, he’d need food.
And coffee.
And, hell, probably some booze, too.
Chapter Eight
Mal waited until she’d had her talk with Doyle a little after lunch to tackle the next item on her list—driving.
While the men told her they didn’t expect her to undertake cross-country road trips anytime soon, they did tell her she needed to try to—safely—start working herself up to full independence.
Because that independence would go a long way toward helping Kel realize he’d have to focus on himself and his recovery.
One of the things they wanted her to do was attempt one “brave” thing every day, whether it was confronting something within herself, or attempting something she hadn’t done before. It didn’t have to be a big thing, but she knew getting behind the wheel again more than qualified for her daily bravery task.
Their neighborhood was quiet and had plenty of back streets she could safely cruise around without having to get on a busy highway. With a text to the men about what she was going to do, she grabbed her purse and keys and headed out.
When she had to adjust the seat and mirrors she nearly started crying. At six feet tall, Kel was only four inches taller than her, but he had long legs.
She sat and breathed through her doubt, her grief, her second-guessing. Nothing worth having ever came easily, and she knew this was no different.
Once she had everything adjusted and put her seatbelt on, she started the car and took a deep breath before shifting into reverse and backing out of the driveway.
This had been the right time of day to undertake this challenge. It wasn’t garbage day, there were hardly any other cars out, the weather was good—it was a success.
Until she was on the far side of their neighborhood and she heard a soft chime sound, which made her look at the dash.
The low-gas light had come on.
Dammit.
That meant working her way back around to pass their house and go down to her favorite gas station. Fortunately, it wasn’t busy, so she didn’t have to feel nervous navigating her way up to one of the pumps.
Following a brief moment of panic where she realized she didn’t have any cash with her and she worried if she even had a valid ATM or credit card that hadn’t expired—she did—she got out and…
Pumped her own gas.
A small victory to some, sure, but she literally couldn’t remember the last time she’d pumped her own gas. Even before everything started, if they were together, Kel preferred to get out and pump the gas, or made sure if he took her car instead of his truck, he always brought it home full or nearly full so she wouldn’t have to get gas. Once she was pregnant, he’d refused to let her pump gas, and had made it an order that she wasn’t allowed to.
It was just one of his things, and a very considerate thing she loved about him.
Once she was home again, she texted the group thread to update them. Almost immediately, she’d received three Good girls in reply, which made her burst into tears.
I want my life back.
Unfortunately, she knew from hard experience that the only way to achieve that goal was to get down into the weeds and do this work now, work she’d put off for far too long.
* * * *
Kel fought the urge to bug Mal all afternoon, but he finally gave in and texted her before leaving the apartment.
Do you need me to stop and get you anything from the store?
He sat in his truck, waiting, until she replied a moment later.
No, I have everything we need for dinner, but thank you. Love you. See you soon! :)
He swallowed back the lump in his throat. When they’d first gotten together as a couple, he’d had trust issues thanks to a bad relationship he’d had before her. It’d taken him a while to say I love you to Mal. When he’d collared her, he knew he was ready to spend the rest of his life with her.
He considered that their “official” wedding, even before they legally married.
He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
He never imagined a day where she wouldn’t be his slave, wouldn’t be calling him Sir or Master, and how empty it left him feeling right now without that one little word in her reply.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure how much more fight he had in him. If he lost her after all this, what was the point of life? If she wouldn’t let him help her, take care of her, how was he supposed to protect her?
When he arrived, he opened the door, another pang hitting him to not have her kneeling in the entry and waiting for him.
Although there hadn’t been any of that lately, either. He wouldn’t have her doing it while she was so dangerously thin, and in the aftermath of losing the baby he didn’t ask it of her because of all the reasons physical and emotional.
“I’m here,” he called out.
That’s when he realized something smelled…wonderful.
“I’m in the kitchen.”
He joined her there, pausing in the doorway to watch. She was bent over, peeking in the oven at whatever she had cooking. She was wearing one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweat pants. “Hi,” he said.
She cast a smile over her shoulder. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail low on her head, and he could almost see the past and not her current thin, frail state. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“It smells delicious.”
“It’s almost ready.” She closed the oven door and stood, then he realized she had vegetables in a covered casserole dish, and a large salad. “It’s pumpkin lasagne.”
He’d started walking toward her and pulled up at that. “Pumpkin?”
She laughed, and the sweet sound tugged on his heart. “I know, right? But it’s savory, not sweet. It takes the place of tomato, so it’s not as acidic.”
“Oh.”
She closed the distance and smiled up at him. He had to admit, she looked happier than she had in a long time. “Thank you, Kel. For trusting me.” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him hard, squeezing him.
He gently rested his arms against her back and closed his eyes while he inhaled her scent. “I love you, sweetheart. I told you, whatever we need to do, I’ll do it.”
“I know how hard this is on you.”
You have no idea.
But he didn’t say that.
She’d already set the table, so he couldn’t even do that for her. And when she dished out her portion, while it wasn’t as much as he wished it was, he kept his mouth shut because it was a damn sight more than she’d eaten in the past.
When they sat down, she took a picture of her plate. He wat
ched as she did something on her phone, apparently entering it into her tracking log.
Eventually he’d have full access to that, too. For now, Doyle, Niall, and Doug were on top of it, monitoring her.
“Oh, I did the laundry,” she said, and then they were chatting. “I folded your clothes and put them away for you.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He didn’t try to argue with her about it because he didn’t want to hear that hurt tone in her voice again.
He couldn’t help but pay attention while she ate, noted how she took her time, chewing slowly, the food obviously still on her mind, how she took tiny bites.
But she ate everything she’d dished out for herself, so he forced back every question and concern and locked them tightly away, saved for the men.
He wanted to be there with her tonight, not rehashing everything. He would stay as on top of this as he could and pray the men were paying attention. He wasn’t forbidden from coming over whenever he wanted, which was the only reason he wasn’t fighting her on this now.
If he felt she was in trouble, he could intervene.
But how will I know for sure?
After dinner, she let him help her clean up the kitchen, at least. He watched as she portioned out the leftover lasagne into individual containers, three of which she tucked into the freezer, the rest going into the fridge.
“We can have those tomorrow night,” she said.
“Tomorrow night?”
She turned those blue eyes on him and he felt lost, helpless, reminded of why he’d fallen in love with her to start with. “Can you come over for dinner tomorrow?” she asked.
He forced the smile. “Of course. I…” He sighed. “I don’t want to assume.”
Mal caught his hands and squeezed them. “This is your home, too. In a couple of weeks, I might feel like I can handle the stairs at the apartment and you can sleep here and I’ll go there.”
He shook his head and hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. “Look, I’m going to put my foot down, okay? If we’re going to do this, I’d rather it be like this, not the other way around.”
But she smiled. “See?”
Confusion filled him. “What?”
“You stood up to me and I didn’t break.”
After dinner they cuddled on the couch to watch a few episodes of Supernatural, because she’d fallen behind and wanted to catch up.
He couldn’t have said what he watched, because he spent the entire time focusing on the fact that she was in his arms again, snuggled against him.
Worried about her.
Later, when he was alone in bed in the apartment, he allowed himself to finally cry, tears of worry, of relief, of anger that whatever he’d done or done wrong or hadn’t done had brought them to this place.
* * * *
“So when can I add ye to the schedule, then?” Niall asked Kel on the phone Friday morning.
When Niall had called him, Kel had been downstairs in the office and working on processing pictures he’d taken at a photoshoot yesterday in Crystal River, at an old friend’s boat manufacturing plant.
Kel hadn’t returned until nearly eleven that evening. He’d slept like shit because he hadn’t seen Mal yesterday, just talked to her over the phone, and his mind had been filled with nightmares of what might happen if he wasn’t there to help her. He knew she’d had an appointment with Doug yesterday, but other than the men texting him that it went well, he didn’t know any details.
“Schedule?” Kel asked.
“To get ye in here in our office.”
“I thought we weren’t doing any joint sessions yet.”
“For a chat of yer own. With me or with Douglas, either one.”
He sat back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. “I thought you were going to keep me updated over the phone?”
“I am, but ye need to come in to talk with us.”
“I’m talked out, Niall. Unless it’s a joint session for her, don’t waste time on me.”
Niall started to argue with him, but then Kel heard a phone ring in the background. “Hold on.” Niall answered the other call, apparently his office phone, and returned a moment later. “I need to go. I have a client waitin’ in the lobby. I’m not done with ye yet.”
“Talk to you later, Ni.” Kel hung up without waiting for a response.
He didn’t know what anyone expected him to say. Of course he’d sit through any joint sessions they wanted him there for with Mal, but his life was on hold until she was ready to move forward.
All he could do was wait for her and try not to get his hopes up too much.
Chapter Nine
The next week…sucked. Between feeling like his life was now stuck in limbo, and the two of them having to attend a friend’s funeral on Tuesday…
Kel’s fear kept a vise-like grip on his soul.
But despite all of that, Kel did his best to throw his heart and soul into working if he wasn’t with Mal.
Which he wasn’t, for most of the time. They were both pretty shaken by the sudden loss, as were many of their friends, but Niall and Doug fit Mal into their schedule for daily sessions, joined by Doyle for one of them because he flew home for the funeral.
And still Kel…waited.
It wasn’t like there was anything else he could do, other than field an angry call from Chelbie when she learned Mal wasn’t inpatient any longer after seeing her at the funeral.
That was fine. He could deal with her anger, and the silent anger of other friends he’d sensed at the funeral when they also realized Mal was back home now. Even his own grief took a backseat to everything else when he focused on Mal.
All of that he could deal with.
Because he kept the group text thread on his phone so he could look at it whenever he had doubts, the fact that Mal had not only maintained her weight since coming home, but she had gained another pound.
Maybe it made him a horrible person and an even worse friend, but every ounce of energy he had needed to be focused on Mal. If anyone couldn’t understand that, well, that was on them.
As they closed in on the two-week mark of Mal being home, Kel was working downstairs in the office late that Friday afternoon when he heard a vehicle approach outside and park.
Wasn’t unusual, because it was an industrial park.
But then someone knocked on the office door.
Shit.
He really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, so he ignored it and kept working.
His phone dinged a moment later with a text from Niall outside of their group thread.
Open up, you sod. I’m parked right next to your truck. I know you’re in there.
The laugh barked free. Kel got up and opened the door for him. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I know. I decided to do a welfare check on my way home from work.”
“What?”
“Haven’t seen ye in our offices as of late.”
Kel sat and Niall took one of the other chairs. “Been busy. Besides, I told you, you should be seeing Mal.”
“We are, but ye need face-time with us, too. Especially after this week,” he quietly added.
Kel opted to go for the deflection. “What’s on your mind, Niall?”
The man arched an eyebrow at him but let it go. “Sunday night, dinner at June an’ Scrye’s. May an’ her husband will be there, too. We want Mal to start having social dinners again, sooner rather than later. This is the first step. Close friends who know what she’s going through an’ understand. Me an’ mine will be there, an’ Doug. Probably not Doyle, because he’s…not doin’ well right now, understandably.”
“We all took it hard. I know they were close.”
Niall’s gaze narrowed. “They’d just had lunch together. He was standin’ right there and saw it happen.”
Shock filled him. “Oh, shit. But…but he came to the office and joined your session with Mal.”
Niall sighed. “We all grieve how we grieve. At least Mevi
is keeping him distracted.”
“Then you guys really need to not focus on me right now. You and Doug focus on Mal. I’m fine.”
“Okay.” But Kel knew there was more from the way Niall studied him.
“Listen,” Niall finally said. “Ye haven’t been in to talk, an’ I would’ve preferred to do this together with at least Doug to help, but ye’re a stubborn sod. We need to discuss something serious.”
Kel’s heart sank. “How much has she lost?”
“What?”
“How much weight has she lost?”
Niall scowled. “None. She hasn’t lost anything—she’s still gaining.”
Confusion mixed with a heavy dose of relief set in. “Then what’s wrong? I mean, besides our shittacular week?”
“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong, except ye haven’t been in for a talk with us yet like we’ve asked.” He pointed at Kel. “Ye don’t wear a gun like June does, do ye?”
“Huh?”
“Carry. Do ye carry a gun?”
“No, I don’t carry. Why? What’s going on?”
“For starters, are ye in agreement that whatever we have to do to save Mal’s life is justified?”
Nope, fucking terrified again. “Just fucking say it, Niall! What’s wrong?”
Niall held up his hands. “Calm yer tits, it’s not ‘bad.’ So knock that shite off. I’m gettin’ there.”
Kel glared at him but shut up.
“Would ye agree, then? That we’re justified?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“The hypnotherapy, working with her in tandem, bringing her home—all of that?”
“Yes.”
“The routines we’ve created for her?”
Kel impatiently nodded. “Yeah, you were right. If it’s working, it’s working. Please get to the point.”
“All right, then. To clarify, there is absolutely nothin’ improper going on. That’s another reason we felt it best there be all three of us workin’ together with her. So she wouldn’t be as likely to get attached to any of us.”
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